Chapter 4 — Touch and Obsession

"Then why are you wandering around at this hour of the night?" Azriel asked, his voice lowering while his fingers still held the back of Isolde's neck captive.

"I-I'm hungry!" Isolde squeaked in panic. Her ragged breaths felt warm against Azriel's bare chest.

"If you're hungry, the kitchen is down the corridor on the left," Azriel said flatly, yet his eyes remained fixed on Isolde's full lips, stained black with paint from where his thumb had brushed them earlier. "There's no food in this room for you to eat. Or could it be... that you actually came here on purpose to watch me?"

Isolde flinched.

This physical closeness was far too intimate, making her entire body tremble. Feeling threatened by Azriel's madness, she intended to turn around and leave immediately.

"Sorry, I... I didn't mean to spy on you."

"Oh?"

Instead of releasing her, Azriel's grip around Isolde's full waist tightened.

With one powerful tug, he pulled Isolde's curvy body into the dimly lit art studio and shut the glass door behind them with his bare foot, causing a soft thud to echo through the room.

Isolde stared in astonishment when her gaze landed on the large canvas standing in the center of the studio.

"Why... why did you paint me like that?" she asked softly.

She looked at her own image on the canvas with mixed emotions. Every curve of her body had been painted in remarkable detail, highlighting a sensuality she had spent years trying to hide.

"Because your proportions are unusual," Azriel answered calmly.

His eyes boldly traced the line of Isolde's neck, slid down to her shoulder exposed by her slipping satin gown, and finally settled on the silhouette of her full hips.

"Everyone around here sculpts their bodies to look as thin as lifeless store mannequins. Boring. There's no passion in that."

Isolde lowered her head.

Her face instantly flushed red, feeling both offended and intimidated by such a nakedly objective assessment.

"You can just say my body is ugly and unpleasant to look at. I'm already very used to hearing it from Gavin."

"Ugly?"

Azriel frowned, appearing genuinely puzzled by her defensive response.

The man stepped forward once more, erasing the distance between them until their chests were nearly touching. The strong scent of paint mixed with the masculine aroma of mint surrounding Azriel completely overwhelmed Isolde's senses.

"Who is the idiot who dared to say that to you?"

"Everyone mocks my body," Isolde whispered, her voice trembling as old pain and emotion suddenly resurfaced.

Azriel fell silent for a moment.

He lifted a hand stained with black paint and stopped a few centimeters from Isolde's cheek without actually touching her skin, as though measuring the beauty of the most precious subject he had ever painted.

"They're just fools who don't know how to appreciate aesthetics. Your body lines... these full curves, they have volume, warmth, and real weight. To me, your figure is incredibly beautiful to explore from a sensual artistic perspective. It's full of living emotion."

The words flowed naturally from Azriel's mouth in an exceptionally honest and matter-of-fact tone, without sounding like cheap flattery.

Yet that only made the hairs on the back of Isolde's neck stand up.

For the first time in her life, a man was looking at her curvy figure with intense admiration in his eyes—and somehow, that felt far more intimidating than the insults of her former fiancé.

"I... I should go back to my room," Isolde interrupted nervously.

Using the last of her strength, she pulled herself free, turned around, and practically ran out of the art studio, ignoring the hunger still gnawing at her stomach.

Azriel simply stood where he was, watching Isolde's full hips sway in panic as she hurried away.

Then he picked up his brush once more and stared at the canvas with a faint smile filled with obsessive madness.

---

Isolde's first morning at Blackthorne Mansion began unpleasantly.

She sat against the headboard of the massive bed, her hair still disheveled.

This luxurious room felt unfamiliar.

Suddenly, memories of the engagement party replayed inside her mind, making her chest tighten painfully.

Isolde's body trembled.

The cruel words spoken by Gavin's mistress echoed clearly in her ears once again.

A plus-size woman like her should know better than to expect love.

"Ah, all of you are bastards!" she muttered through gritted teeth while squeezing the silk pillow in her arms.

Isolde quickly covered her face with both hands.

Her breathing turned shallow as the humiliation she had briefly managed to suppress came crashing back without mercy.

She hated her own body.

She hated how large her arms looked.

She hated her thighs that constantly rubbed together when she walked.

She hated the way people looked at her as though she were some unforgivable sin.

Letting out a long breath, Isolde finally climbed out of bed.

Her bare feet stopped in front of the large mirror beside the wardrobe.

Inside, the servants had already prepared new clothes for her.

She picked out a fitted black sports shirt and a pair of matching tight leggings.

When she put them on, the mirror reflected the clear outline of her body.

The leggings wrapped sensually around her full thighs and hips, while the black shirt emphasized her generous chest.

Her jaw slowly tightened.

"Enough," she whispered to herself.

She refused to be humiliated again.

She had to lose weight.

---

The gym inside Blackthorne Mansion was far larger than any premium fitness center Isolde had ever seen.

Its towering glass walls overlooked the lush backyard gardens.

Isolde stood awkwardly beside a treadmill, tugging the hem of her black shirt downward, uncomfortable with how much the workout clothes revealed the curves of her body.

Nervously, she pressed the treadmill's start button.

The machine began moving slowly.

One step.

Two steps.

Then the pace gradually increased into a light jog.

Isolde's breathing became labored before five minutes had even passed.

Her round cheeks turned red, and her dense body felt incredibly heavy as she forced herself to keep moving.

Sweat began dripping from her temples, dampening her pale neck and soaking through the front of her black shirt until the fabric clung tightly to her skin.

"I can't give up..." she muttered hoarsely, enduring the pain in her bruised knee from the fall the previous night.

At that exact moment, the sound of slow, rhythmic applause echoed from behind her.

"Well... this is a very surprising and... stimulating morning view."

Isolde's body immediately stiffened upon hearing the familiar husky voice.

She turned quickly and found Evander Blackthorne leaning against the doorway.

The man was dressed in black athletic shorts and a training shirt that exposed the muscular definition of his arms and thighs.

His dark hair was still slightly damp, as though he had just finished showering after exercising elsewhere.

A satisfied smirk instantly appeared on Evander's attractive lips as he watched Isolde on the treadmill.

Evander walked inside with the relaxed confidence of a leopard approaching its prey, carrying a bottle of cold mineral water.

His gaze shamelessly traveled downward, openly studying the way Isolde's large breasts bounced rhythmically with every step she took on the treadmill, as well as how the tight leggings hugged her thick hips.

Evander's hungry stare made Isolde increasingly uncomfortable and nervous, causing her steps to nearly falter.

"W-Why are you looking at me like that, Mr. Evander?" she muttered softly while pressing the button to slow the machine down.

Evander chuckled.

His laughter was low and undeniably attractive.

"Because you're very cute, Little Girl."

"Huh?"

Isolde stopped the treadmill and intended to step down.

However, Evander quickly moved forward and blocked her path, erasing the distance between them.

Standing directly in front of the machine, he braced both hands on the treadmill's handles, effectively trapping Isolde between them and his broad chest.

"Your face is completely red," Evander murmured as he lowered his head, staring closely at Isolde's sweat-covered face.

The close proximity allowed Isolde to feel the heat radiating from Evander's masculine body.

Evander lifted his hand and boldly brushed away the beads of sweat on Isolde's temple with his warm thumb before letting it trail down her jaw in a sensual caress that sent chills racing through her body.

Evander's hawk-like eyes darkened as he watched Isolde's chest rise and fall rapidly, creating an incredibly provocative sight in his eyes.

"And you're breathing so hard like that... making such sweet little sounds," Evander whispered directly in front of Isolde's lips, his smirk widening even further. "Hearing you breathe this fast... makes me imagine something else. You sound exactly like a woman lying beneath my control in bed, Isolde."